


a treatise on the word "beautiful"

by bannerless (seraf)



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Anal Sex, Anthropology, Bondage, Canon Compliant, Canon Rewrite, Extended Scene, Gender Identity, Hotel Kumanami | Hotel Kumasutra, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Scratching, Strap-Ons, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-03-01 09:01:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18797191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seraf/pseuds/bannerless
Summary: shuichi can't help but wonder how much of this is kiyo's fantasy to begin with, and how much is the anthropologist responding to him.rewrite/extended scene of kiyo's love hotel scene. was supposed to be short, but i've lost control of my life.





	a treatise on the word "beautiful"

shuichi swallowed a ragged breath and relaxed, propping himself up on his elbows to view kiyo as he glided towards him, a cord of deep red rope swinging loosely in one fist. his heart raced, and he couldn’t quite discern _why_ _-_ was it fear, or excitement, or arousal? adrenaline was making the three blend into one ache in his chest, behind his ribs, and as kiyo shifted his weight to rest one knee on the bed, he squeezed his eyes shut instinctively for a second.

 

what he hadn’t expected was the brush of bandaged fingers against his cheek, tender and surprisingly gentle, though the fabric itself was rough.

 

‘ shuichi. ‘ kiyo’s voice was . . . much calmer, and his hand shifted to cup shuichi’s face, one thumb continuing the gentle stroking motion over his cheekbone, fingers slender but motions confident. ‘ if you’d rather be blind to this, i have no objections, but . . . i would prefer it if you opened your eyes. even if it does seem frightening, i do not have any intentions to hurt you. ‘

 

slowly, shuichi opened his eyes, pulling his legs up onto the bed and sitting upright, swallowing as he looks at kiyo - sitting right in front of him, their knees touching. kiyo’s eyes were filled with . . . something unreadable. it seemed as though he were evaluating shuichi, his hand still gently cupping the side of shuichi’s face.

 

shuichi swallowed his doubts, one hand absently tightening in the blanket, nerves making him a little fidgety. ‘ i . . . i know you don’t mean to hurt me, ‘ he says slowly, still testing the waters a little. ‘ but this . . . isn’t something i’ve done before? ‘ well, that much, at least, was true.

 

( to an extent. it wasn’t the first night he’d come to the hotel, sure, but rope had never been something he considered before. )

 

korekiyo nodded, humming a note of understanding. ‘ i believe you mentioned as much. that is why you wanted me, though, yes? ‘

 

was that part of kiyo’s fantasy, then? showing this to someone for the first time? well, given the time shuichi had spent with him ( largely in kiyo’s lab ) he _did_ enjoy passing on information and experiences, but this was . . . an unorthodox sort of lesson. most of his previous ones had been about mythology or seances.

 

‘ we will go at your pace, of course, ‘ kiyo says reassuringly, finally withdrawing his hand from the side of shuichi’s face. oddly, shuichi finds a part of himself almost missing the touch.

 

‘ ah . . . that’s, ‘ he swallows, ‘ that’s good. ‘

 

kiyo’s hands wrap around himself, clutching onto his own shoulders for a moment as he seems to be pondering something. ‘ that does remind me, though. i apologize for being too . . . eager. i meant to inquire about your preferences first. ‘

 

‘ what do you mean? ‘

 

kiyo spread his hands simply. ‘ forgive me if i am being blunt, but you were assigned female at birth, yes? i simply want to know how to avoid causing you discomfort. what your limits are, or the role you prefer to take, so as best to avoid any dysphoria. this is meant to be pleasurable, after all. ‘

 

shuichi stiffens slightly. ‘ . . . how did you know? ‘ he says, eventually, and he feels aware now more than ever of his binder, almost like it has a vice grip on his ribs. maybe that’s why it feels hard to breathe right now. _am i not passing well enough?_ he wants to ask, but does his best to swallow the fear rising in his throat.

 

‘ your training sessions with kaito and maki, ‘ kiyo says simply. ‘ in my study of everyone here, there have been a few times where i have observed you two, or you three, as the case may be. the shortness of breath you demonstrate sometimes seems incongruent with how in shape you actually are. ’ for a moment, he fiddles with the silver locket on his uniform. ‘ though, to be honest . . . a part of it was just instinct. i can understand dealing with your gender identity, though our journeys are different ones. ‘

 

there’s a note of relief that slumps shuichi’s shoulders. it wasn’t anything obvious, then.

 

‘ it’s hardly my place to tell you what to do or not to regulate your own comfort, but i would suggest not binding while you exercise. ‘

 

‘ i know, ‘ shuichi says, a little guiltily. ‘ i just . . . i’m not sure if i want kaito to know? he means well, and he’s a good person, i just don’t think it’s something he . . . gets. ‘

 

kiyo tips his head in acknowledgement. ‘ you know yourself best. speaking of . . . my original question still stands. ‘

 

‘ oh! ‘ he had almost forgotten about what had led into this segue, and his cheeks redden a little bit. ‘ ah . . . i don’t actually know, really? i’d . . . i think i’d prefer if you didn’t, ‘ he swallows, looking down and away ( and _screw_ monokuma for making this place so over-the-top, there was nowhere he could look that wasn’t equally likely to make him blush ) ‘ if you didn’t give much attention to my chest? ‘

 

kiyo nods, and shuichi gets the ridiculous feeling that he’s taking notes. ‘ would you prefer to avoid penetration, then? or would you rather be the one doing as much? i wouldn’t be opposed, and i’m sure there’s something here that would work for that purpose. ‘ his voice remains calm, level, and shuichi feels a little bit jealous, because it’s taking him quite a bit to not just hide his face.

 

‘ i . . . really don’t know, ‘ he says, honestly. ‘ can we . . . can we see as you, as you go along? ‘ weakly, he gestures at the red rope kiyo still has in one hand. ‘ with . . . whatever it was you wanted to _teach_ me. ‘

 

kiyo laughs, the sound breathy and a little harsh. ‘ of course. ‘ he shifts onto one knee and leans forwards, and suddenly, shuichi is _very_ aware of how close the two of them are, one of kiyo’s hands planted on the bed near his thigh and the other nimbly beginning to undo the first few buttons of his gakuran. he’s close enough that if for some inexplicable reason the urge overcame shuichi, he could lean forwards and tug the zipper on his mask open with his teeth.

 

( he _doesn’t,_ but the thought does bud a curiousity in him as he watches kiyo work. )

 

‘ kiyo, can i . . . can you take off your mask? ‘ he blurts out suddenly, and the other boy withdraws, expression inscrutable. shuichi swallows, wondering if that had crossed a line of some sort. all there is, for a few moments, is kiyo _looking_ at him, yellow eyes piercing and unreadable. the seconds tick by, and shuichi is just about to open his mouth to take it back when kiyo inclines his head slightly.

 

‘ stay here, ‘ he tells shuichi, and stands from the bed in a fluid motion, walking to a heart-shaped mirror in one of the other sides of the room. shuichi can hear him murmuring something to himself for a moment, hands gripping his shoulder and his waist as though he were embracing himself. even craning his neck, he can’t quite make out what the other boy is doing over there, until at last he turns around, mask and hat set carefully on the counter.

 

shuichi watches him curiously. his face is graceful and angular, much like the rest of him. as he sits on the bed again, shuichi can see a smear of color on one side of his upper left lip. a scar, maybe? lipstick? ‘ is that a scar? ‘ he asks, gesturing. kiyo blinks, seemingly taken a little aback, and rubs his thumb over where shuichi points, withdrawing his hand with a slight stain of color on the bandages.

 

‘ ah . . . no. it’s lipstick. i wear it in tribute to . . . someone i love very much. ‘

 

shuichi blinks. ‘ oh, like a girlfriend or something? ‘

 

‘ . . . i suppose that’s a fitting description, ‘ kiyo says cryptically, eyes far away, as though he was lost in thought. awkwardly, shuichi fiddles with the buttons on his own jacket, letting it drop off the bed, the motion seemingly drawing kiyo’s attention back in. ‘ my apologies, shuichi. this isn’t why either of us are here, yes? ‘

 

‘ i don’t mind, ‘ shuichi assures quickly. things had changed dramatically during this visit, and he was still a little bit lost. but he wanted to help kiyo with his fantasy, whatever it was. ‘ i like hearing more about you, kiyo. ‘

 

kiyo’s eyes shut for a second, and he holds onto his shoulders with another breathy chuckle. and for the first time, shuichi is able to see his smile, surprisingly gentle and soft. he can’t help but stare a little. ‘ thank you, shuichi. ‘

 

shuichi smiles, and on impulse, reaches out to rest a hand on kiyo’s thigh, slow and tentative. he can feel kiyo stiffen slightly underneath the fabric of his near-military uniform. his eyes were almost _curious,_ watching shuichi. it’s funny, the detective muses - even with his mask off, kiyo’s expressions are unreadable.

 

shuichi shivers reactively at the odd feeling of kiyo’s bandaged fingers slipping under his shirt - the fabric sliding against his skin almost tickled, ghosts of the touch lingering even as kiyo’s hands made their way upwards, fingertips brushing the bottom of his binder underneath his shirt. carefully, he relaxes the tension in his shoulders, letting the anthropologist tug off his shirt in one smooth motion, shivering at the cool shock of air against his skin.

 

uncomfortably, he shifted just a little as kiyo’s hands returned to the lower seam of his binder, the anthropologist’s eyes searching him, silently looking for shuichi’s feelings on the matter. seeing the discomfort, he lowers them once again.

 

‘ would you prefer to turn around, shuichi? ‘ he asks softly.

 

shuichi considers it for a moment before nodding, his back facing korekiyo as his own hands work to tug off his binder, hunching his shoulders a little as though he can curl defensively around his chest. he’s not sure what to expect next, but kiyo’s fingers brush underneath his shoulderblades, gently applying pressure, thumbs moving in slow, precise circles.

 

‘ straighten your back? ‘ he asks, one hand gently pressing into the middle of shuichi’s spine, causing him to sit up a little bit straighter. there’s a question dancing in shuichi’s mouth, brows drawing together, before kiyo presses the heels of his palms between his shoulderblades, his breath leaving in a sharp, surprised motion.

 

‘ chest binding for long periods of time can cause tension in much of the body, ‘ kiyo explains in his calm, lilting sort of voice, shuichi’s head tipping back a little for the feeling of korekiyo gently working the knots out of his muscles. ‘ your trapezius muscle, for example, or the ribs, or your diaphragm muscle. considering what we are about to do, i would prefer you not go into it with this much existing tension. ‘

 

as he says that, his hands shift to the sides of his ribs, slightly on either side of the small of his back, the motions of his hands practiced and surprisingly strong, like shuichi had noted before.

 

‘ how do you know this all, kiyo? ‘ shuichi asks, finding himself slowly leaning back into his hands.

 

‘ from both an anthropological and a . . . personal point of view, it’s important to know about different practices surrounding gender non-conformity, ‘ kiyo explains calmly.

 

‘ are you also . . . ? ‘

 

‘ yes, and no, depending on what you’re asking, ‘ kiyo asks, and though he can’t see his face, shuichi thinks he can hear amusement in his voice. ‘ i’m not a trans man, if that’s your question. however, i don’t . . . identify within the gender binary. i have no issues with people seeing me as male, or the occasions where they view me as female. ‘

 

‘ oh, ‘ shuichi says. he was learning more about kiyo during this meeting than he really ever had before. kiyo . . . even when the two of them hung out, kiyo dodged most questions about himself, preferring instead to just discuss anthropology.

 

‘ especially with my work, ‘ kiyo continues. ‘ genders beyond male and female have existed in different cultures for most of recorded history. ‘ shuichi hisses through his teeth as kiyo’s fingers begin to dig into where the base of his neck meets his shoulders - he wasn’t even aware he was sore there.‘ for example, in classical judaism, there are six genders - _zachar, nekeivah, androgynos, tumtum, ay’lonit,_ and _saris_. similarly, bugis society recognizes three sexes and five genders: _makkunrai, oroané_ ,  _bissu_ ,  _calabai_ , and  _calalai_ , a part of their culture that has existed for more than six centuries, if i recall correctly, and persists to today. ‘

 

‘ that’s interesting! ‘ shuichi says, and finds that he means it. korekiyo seems sometimes to just be an endless font of knowledge. and it’s . . . comforting, the thought that people have always been like he is. ‘ so, how do you identify yourself, then? ‘

 

‘ i don’t, ‘ kiyo says simply, his fingers continuing to work at shuichi’s back. ‘ just as i don’t ascribe myself to any one particular religion to avoid taking a bias in my studies, i do much the same with gender. ‘

 

‘ oh, ‘ shuichi says, considering that perspective for a moment with a small frown. it was very . . . kiyo, in the same way that he always talked about the beauty of humanity as though he weren’t human himself. speaking as an observer, rather than a participant. ‘ do you want me to refer to you any differently? ‘

 

‘ as i’ve said, ‘ kiyo hums, ‘ i don’t really care one way or the other.‘ shuichi nods at that thoughtfully, and finally, kiyo withdraws his hands from his back. ‘ how does that feel? ‘

 

shuich rolls his shoulders, arches his back slightly, and blinks, surprised. it was the sort of tension or pain you didn’t realize you were experiencing until you felt the absence of it. he was still a little tender from where kiyo had dug in his fingers, but it felt almost like he could move more freely. ‘ that feels . . . really good, actually. thank you, kiyo. ‘

 

‘ i’m glad to help, ‘ the anthropologist says simply, bowing his head in acknowledgement as shuichi turns his head to look at him again. ‘ now - would you prefer to keep your back facing me, or will you turn around? ‘

 

shuichi opened his mouth slightly. ‘ i . . . don’t know? ‘ he says, phrasing it like a question.

 

kiyo hums. ‘ well. i _would_ like to see your face while i work. as i’ve stated before, part of this for me is doing what i can to unlock your beauty, shuichi. ‘ a small, removed part of the detective wonders how he can manage to say that sort of thing all the time without breaking his serious face.

 

he nods, though, turning to face him, his legs crossed.

 

kiyo begins to slowly unwind the bundle of red rope, letting it entwine around his fingers as he does, holding it up so the light reflects off the smooth fibers, giving it an almost ethereal sort of appearance. two bandaged fingers trace their way up from the slight line of hair over shuichi’s hips, up through the center of his ribs, up over his throat, stopping to tip up his chin slightly, kiyo gently shifting his head with just those two fingers, forcing shuichi to look at him.

 

‘ given that you’ve said you haven’t done this before, this won’t begin with actually restraining you, unless you’d prefer that, ‘ kiyo said, contemplating him for a long moment before resting his thumb in the center of shuichi’s sternum, settling one end of the rope there. ‘ if ever it gets hard to breathe, i want you to tell me, ‘ he states, beginning to wind the cord around him.

 

shuichi can only admire how deft kiyo’s hands are, red rope beginning to bloom around his body in a sudden starburst of color, his handiwork clearly that of someone practiced. the cord against his skin, tight against his ribs and shoulders if he turned or flexed them, was an _odd_ feeling, but not a bad one.

 

kiyo looked almost transfixed in his work. ‘ knots have always had a cultural significance, ‘ he murmurs, half to himself. ‘ the amount of superstition or customs that blossomed from them has always been . . . impressive to me. it’s my latest area of interest. ‘

 

‘ you mentioned that, ‘ shuichi remembers, nodding. ‘ when you were speaking about field work recently. was it . . . something like this, what you experienced? ‘

 

kiyo seemed to be considering the question, an absent smile appearing on his face, his hands continuing to wind the rope without even having to look. ‘ yes . . . and no. kinbaku is the art of using ropes in a sensual way or for decoration. that is closest to what i am showing you now. however, historically, it was . . . almost a bastardization of a martial art called hojojutsu, which was complex rope-tying used to either restrain or torture prisoners. ‘

 

he crosses the rope over itself, creating a diamond of intertwined cord over his stomach. ‘ it was well known enough that scenes utilizing it would appear in kabuki theater - but to avoid causing the actors actual pain, techniques were modified to create the same aesthetic effect without being harmful. seiu ito is widely accredited for making it a more widespread technique for sexual or sensual imagery. however, it’s a phenomenon i’ve noticed occuring seemingly independently in several regions of japan. that has been the latest area of my research. ‘ saying that, he sits back some on his haunches, looking shuichi over.

 

the urge to cross his arms and hide himself from the piercing gaze came and went in shuichi. oddly enough, he was finding himself . . . calming, as kiyo continued to wind the rope around him and speak, in his soft voice.

 

a thought occurred to him, and he suddenly laughed, causing kiyo to pause in his work, head tilting to the side. it was a gesture that reminded shuichi of a bird, almost - as did many things kiyo did, in the way he almost seemed to _perch_ wherever he sat and the odd melodic tone to his voice.

 

‘ just . . . ‘ he gestures slightly. ‘ when you said you were going to teach me _thoroughly,_ i wasn’t quite . . . expecting an actual lesson. ‘

 

a smile twitches at the edges of kiyo’s lips, and he removes his hands from shuichi altogether. ‘ would you prefer i act . . . more forwards, and save the lectures for another time? ‘

 

‘ no, ‘ shuichi says hurriedly. ‘ it’s interesting! ‘ a thought suddenly occurs to him, resting his chin in his hand ever so briefly. was there a chance that part of kiyo’s fantasy was just . . . having someone who wanted to listen to him? most of the time, during group gatherings, people acted annoyed towards his anthropological ramblings, or ignored them altogether - or occasionally called him creepy for them. perhaps a fantasy for kiyo was just having someone who was willing to listen to him.

 

one of kiyo’s thumbs traces over his jaw, the other resting above his hip - paused in his work for a moment, seemingly content in just _watching_ shuichi, something almost tender in his expression.

 

on an impulse, shuichi rests his own hand over the one kiyo has resting on his cheek, still not quite adjusted to the rough fabric of his bandages. ‘ kiyo . . . do you think you could take these off? i . . . i want to see _you,_ as well. ‘

 

kiyo seemed taken off-guard just by the idea of that, his fingers twitching, but he doesn’t withdraw his hand. ‘ . . . perhaps, ‘ he says, simply. ‘ is the fabric causing you any irritation? ‘

 

‘ some, ‘ shuichi admits. kiyo scrutinizes him, and then removes the hand from shuichi’s face, extending it like an invitation. it takes shuichi a second to understand the meaning behind the gesture, startling a little when he does. gently, he takes kiyo’s hand in both of his. ‘ can you take off your jacket? ‘ he asks, realizing that he’s never seen kiyo without it.

 

‘ i . . . don’t make a habit of this, ‘ the anthropologist states, but slowly undoes the row of buttons, shrugging off the jacket to reveal a short-sleeved shirt underneath that clings to his body, revealing the rest of him to be as slender as his hands. through the shirt, shuichi can almost make out the sharp lines of his ribs, the jut of his hipbones.

 

‘ thank you, then, ‘ shuichi says honestly. there’s a small bubble of warmth in his chest at the idea that kiyo is trusting him with this - perhaps it’s only because this is his fantasy, but he feels honored by the gesture nonetheless.

 

carefully, he finds the end of the bandage surrounding one of kiyo’s arms, and begins to unravel it, kiyo’s eyes unblinking, observing, as he does. it takes a good few _yards_ of fabric, it seems, before the first few glimpses of skin peek out from between the layers of cloth.

 

end goal in sight now, shuichi unwinds all the more quickly, revealing first kiyo’s thin fingers and calloused palms, before beginning to expose his wrist up to his elbow, exhaling slightly as he drops the length of bandage off the side of the bed.

 

he runs a thumb, curious, over some of the subdued marks wrapping, snakelike, around the other boy’s arms. ‘ where did you get these scars from? ‘ he asks.

 

‘ _kehehe._ you are the detective here, are you not? ‘ kiyo challenges him, eyes as unyielding as ever, but this time bright with mirth for a second, the teasing note in his voice gentle. ‘ maybe you should tell _me._ ‘

 

shuichi nods absently, tracing his fingers over the length of his arms, smooth skin frequently marred by scar tissue of various sorts. ‘ well . . . some of these i’d guess were from your field work. you mentioned you were tied up so tightly that you passed out, and circulation being cut off for that long _could_ leave marks like this. ‘

 

he turns kiyo’s hand palm-up, cradling kiyo’s hand gently as he continues to calculate, and swallows slightly. ‘ some of these i’d guess are . . . self-inflicted, ‘ he says, not sure quite how to phrase that in a tactful way. ‘ given their . . . shape, appearance, and frequency. ‘ his fingers continue to trace up kiyo’s arm, and he decides to ignore the part of him that just thinks it’s very nice to be able to really touch or see kiyo for the first time.

 

he frowns. ‘ this is . . . it looks like a symbol. some sort of ritual, maybe? given how much you’ve talked about seances before, and how angie talks about ritual bloodletting. ‘ he taps a scar on the side of kiyo’s forearm. ‘ some of these look like they were from natural causes - you’ve mentioned a lot of travel, so i’d imagine it’s pretty possible to get injuries like that. some of these . . . look like scratches? nail marks? either from yourself or someone else. ‘ he’s still holding kiyo’s wrist gently as he looks back up at him for confirmation. ‘ at least, that’s . . . what i got from them. ‘

 

‘ you’re entirely correct, ‘ kiyo says, beaming. ‘ it is always fascinating to see your thought process. ‘ he leaves the one hand in shuichi’s grasp, but his other hand clutches his shoulder,eyes shutting for a moment in apparent bliss. ‘ the human mind is a beautiful thing. ‘

 

shuichi hides a little grin at that, at how used to kiyo’s odd way of speaking he’s become. however, he’s taken by surprise as the other’s eyes open again, boring right into his own. suddenly, he’s aware that they’re _very_ close to his own, enough that he can make out the shifts of gradient in the color of kiyo’s eyes, and the slightly blurred edges to the eyeliner he apparently wore.

 

‘ i would say yours in particular, ‘ kiyo murmurs, almost as if to himself, and shuichi’s breath catches in his throat.

 

_beautiful._

 

he acts on impulse, feeling the rope strain slightly against his shoulders as he leans forwards a few inches. in his hands, where he still holds onto kiyo’s wrist, he feels the tendons jump in surprise at his sudden action.

 

kiyo’s mouth is soft.

 

for a moment he’s just lax, seemingly taken entirely by surprise by shuichi acting, before his hand shifts to cup the side of shuichi’s face, leaning to meet him. shuichi lets out a very undignified little yelp when kiyo suddenly nips at his lower lip, and he can _feel_ kiyo’s typical _kehehe_ at his reaction against his own mouth.

 

‘ i suppose i _did_ get distracted from the initial purpose, ‘ kiyo muses as shuichi leans back again. ‘ still. that was . . . surprising. ‘

 

‘ should i not have? ‘ shuichi asks, cautiously.

 

kiyo smiles, and it’s a sharp thing, eyes tipping up at the corners. ‘ i never said that it was a _bad_ surprise, shuichi. ‘

 

emboldened by that, shuichi reaches for his other arm, unwrapping the bandage there, more quickly now that he has the experience for it, and kiyo just _watches_ him, something in his eyes giving him the appearance of a predator.

 

with his hands now bare, kiyo unbuttons his shirt, shrugging that off as well - his chest is as scarred as his arms were, but he appears unbothered by it. he pauses for a moment, tipping his head to the side for a moment in thought, before moving more onto the bed, shifting to rest against the frame of the bed, tugging shuichi’s hips along with him, one of his hands doing so by snagging the rope that now wraps him.

 

shuichi finds his face turning bright red as he realizes he’s now straddling kiyo. it’s an odd feeling, being higher up than him - kiyo’s long legs mean he’s usually literally looking up at him. in a strange way, it instills confidence in him.

 

 _how much of this is his fantasy?_ he wonders idly. _he seems to be accomodating to me just as much as i am to him. no . . . elaborations about phantom thieves or rival pilots or childhood friends or anything like that. just me._

 

for some reason, the thought made him feel pleased.

 

‘ you mentioned knots being present in a lot of different cultures, ‘ he says suddenly. ‘ can you tell me about some more of them? ‘

 

with his mask removed, the surprise that flashes across kiyo’s face is clearly visible, and so is the delight that follows. ‘ i’m . . . glad you’re interested in hearing more, shuichi. ‘ as he speaks, the tips of his fingers dip slightly under shuichi’s waistband, and shuichi swallows, knuckles going white for a moment before he remembers to relax. ‘ i did mean to ask . . . how you would feel comfortable proceeding. ‘

 

‘ well, ‘ shuichi says cautiously, now used to the feeling of the ropes over his chest, ‘ i don’t think i’d be comfortable being completely restrained. but maybe one hand would be alright . . . ? ‘ once again . . . he has to admit he’s curious.

 

kiyo nods, hands wrapping around shuichi’s waist. ‘ which hand? ‘

 

‘ um . . . left? ‘ he says, almost asking it.

 

the anthropologist nods, gently shifting shuichi’s hand behind his back. ‘ is this an uncomfortable angle for you, shuichi? ‘

 

he flexes his fingers, shifting his shoulder to make sure it’s not being awkwardly tugged behind his back or strained in a direction it isn’t meant to go in. ‘ no, ‘ he says conclusively after a moment, and begins to feel kiyo’s hands begin their work again.

 

‘ as i stated before, ‘ kiyo murmurs, ‘ ropes have found their way into customs, seemingly independently, in many places. ‘ his face is close enough to shuichi’s chest that he imagines he can _feel_ kiyo’s voice, a low hum through his sternum. ‘ so often, they’re used to symbolize different forms of restraint and release. like the scandanavian myth that believed you could use knots in a rope to control the wind. with the untying of one, a breeze. with two, a violent wind. with three, a tempest. ‘ as he speaks, his fingers drift down shuichi’s spine, running along each vertebrae.

 

‘ in ancient egypt, tying and untying various knots came with positive and negative results. fabric or netting knots, which are similar to the kind i am using here - ‘ and his fingers find their way down to the base of shuichi’s spine, working underneath a knot he had tied there previously ‘ - represented protection when being tied, but also restriction, or rendering one powerless. and untying one could mean the restoring of power, removing restriction, but additionally . . . making one vulnerable. try moving your arm now. ‘

 

it took shuichi a second to separate the prompt from the . . . lecture? and to try shifting his arm, unable to move it from where it was pinned to his back. satisfied, kiyo nodded. ‘ which works well, i think, to symbolize why some people take pleasure in this from beyond a sadomasochistic view. the idea of being under someone else’s control, or trusting them to that extent can be . . . freeing, but in the most literal sense, you _are_ restricted. ‘

 

shuichi rolls his shoulders, and his fingers flex, wanting to steady himself a little more than his one arm will allow him to. ‘ i . . . think i can understand that, ‘ he says, slowly.

 

‘ speaking of proceeding, ‘ kiyo states thoughtfully, ‘ if i recall correctly, there’s an invention of miu’s that may be here. it may help in this situation. let me see if i can find it . . . ‘

 

approximately two minutes later, both of them were staring dubiously at the aforementioned invention.

 

‘ why does it have to be that _color,_ though? ‘ shuichi bemoans, gesturing weakly.

 

‘ miu is . . . prone to her idiosyncrasies, ‘ kiyo says, eyes narrowed ever so slightly. ‘ i suppose it might be for aesthetic purposes. ‘

 

the invention in question seemed to be some cross between a strap-on and a prosthetic, accompanied by a few small near translucent electrodes and a remote with a . . . frankly concerning amount of buttons.

 

‘ let’s _not_ test all of those, ‘ kiyo said dryly.

 

shuichi shuddered. ‘ i . . . wasn’t planning on it. ‘ he looks at the anthropologist a little uncertainly. ‘ are you sure about this? ‘

 

‘ if i wasn’t, would i have offered? ‘ kiyo says, mild amusement clear on his face. ‘ it’s not a role i’m unfamiliar with. besides. ‘ he gestures vaguely. ‘ it gives you time to figure . . . that out while i prepare myself. ‘ shuichi nods slowly - it does make sense.

 

( and there’s a curious excited sort of rush running through him at the prospect, speeding up his heartbeat just a little - bottom surgery had never sounded appealing to him, given the limited functionality, but getting to experience things from the right position, however artificially, was . . . well, he couldn’t deny the appeal. even if miu _had_ felt the need to make the thing florescent pink for some reason or another. )

 

a sudden thought comes to mind. ‘ . . . kiyo, how am i supposed to get this on with only one hand? ‘

 

kiyo _grins,_ and it sends a shiver running up shuichi’s back. ‘ well, ‘ he says, voice almost a purr, ‘ i suppose you’ll have to figure that out for yourself, yes? ‘

 

shuichi glared at him, but more with exasperation than any real heat to it, eying the prosthetic warily for a moment before beginning to undo the strap as best he could with one hand, awkwardly wriggling out of his pants and kicking them off.

 

it was an _awkward_ procedure with only one hand free, but slowly, he managed to pull it up, determinedly deciding to avoid looking at the unfortunate bright color of the thing. tightening the straps, however, was nearly proving to stump him, until kiyo’s hands reached over, pulling them tight. it let shuichi focus on where to set the electrodes.

 

‘ are you sure this is going to work? ‘ he asks kiyo - maybe a little late, considering. he chewed his lip, feeling a little ridiculous as he reached for the remote, powering it on. for a moment, there was an uncomfortable burn from where each of the electrodes was placed, and then his fingers tightened in the sheets in surprise. his thighs shifted apart a little, and carefully, he traces his hands up the shaft where it now sits against his hipbones, making a strangled noise in the back of his throat. ‘ — nevermind. it - it works. ‘

 

he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to call miu a genius or ask her what the fuck being inside her head was like.

 

still. still.

 

he’s hyperaware of his own arousal, now, heightened by the fact that instead of feeling slick, the head of his cock brushes his stomach, and he swallows. his eyes flick over to kiyo, who is sitting cross-legged again, looking almost as though he’s meditating, eyes nearly shut but for slits of yellow-green, his expression somewhere between passive and serene.

 

a sudden part of shuichi just wants to ask him _more,_ now. about history, sure - korekiyo was an endless fountain of information that managed to ensnare him every time - but moreso just about kiyo himself. was all of this really part of his fantasy? what were the stories behind some of the scars that wrapped his body - both the ones that shuichi could guess the cause of and the ones he couldn’t? what made him the way he is, talking about being whipped and nearly asphyxiated to death like it was the best possible outcome? who is the dear person he mentions, sometimes? when did he start seeing all humans as beautiful?

 

( does he _really_ believe that, or is it a mantra he’s repeated for so long it’s begun to stick? does he really see shuichi as beautiful, or is he just another human? )

 

but he doesn’t ask any of those questions.

 

instead, he shifts on the bed, uncertain for a moment before his resolve kicks in, and he moves forwards, sitting loosely on korekiyo’s thighs. the anthropologist’s eyes don’t open any more, but shuichi gets the sense nonetheless that korekiyo is watching him. ‘ are you ready, shuichi? ‘ not quite trusting his voice, shuichi nods. kiyo’s eyes open, looking him over with an abject curiousity. ‘ . . . shuichi, do you trust me? ‘

 

strange. when people usually ask it, it seems more like a prelude than anything else, but kiyo asks it as though he was just genuinely curious to hear the answer.

 

‘ yes, ‘ shuichi says. he means that, too. despite kiyo’s unsettling appearance and the few unnerving things he says, he’s proven himself reliable and a good friend thus far.

 

‘ that . . . pleases me, ‘ kiyo says slowly, as though he doesn’t completely understand it himself, and his eyes seem _distant_ for a moment, frozen in place, before he redirects his attention to shuichi. ‘ if at any point your arm begins to fall asleep, tell me as much, ‘ he tells shuichi, and the detective suddenly feels his back hit the bed, with a soft _oof,_ finding himself looking up at kiyo again, his restrained arm pinned under his own weight, his free hand flailing about for a moment in surprise.

 

kiyo leaned over him, long hair falling about his head and shuichi’s both, and the detective giggles once as kiyo’s hair brushes his nose. he finds himself wishing kiyo didn’t wear a mask more - the small smile that comes to his face is beautiful, to borrow his own favorite word.

 

distracted by that, he doesn’t notice kiyo’s hand moving until he _feels_ it, suddenly hyperaware of his slender fingers and the firm callouses at the base of them as his hand wraps around shuichi’s cock, and the detective finds himself crying out, head slamming back into the mattress suddenly at the unfamiliar-but-familiar feeling.

 

kiyo watches his chest heave for breath as though he’s enchanted, and shuichi can’t shake the idea that he’s somehow taking notes, a hint of his expression sheer _curiosity,_ as though shuichi were laid out on an operating table rather than a bed.

 

kiyo’s hand moves, and shuichi has to bite back a very undignified sound at the absence, before it returns, suddenly slick. like they had been for the tying of the ropes themselves, his hands are practiced. _efficient_ seems like a word unsuited for their situation, but it feels like an apt one, his hand twisting around the shaft followed by his thumb grazing over the head. shuichi becomes aware now of the functionality of the ropes kiyo had bound him in earlier - in this position, every time he arches his back or twists slightly, they tighten in different places, drawing taut against hisskin, pressing lines into it.

 

‘ part of the . . . _meaning,_ i suppose, seen in being restrained, has always been the loss of power, ‘ kiyo murmurs, almost absently. ‘ but in and of itself, that can be freeing. surrendering control to someone you can trust . . . it lifts a responsibility from one’s shoulders, in a way. ‘

 

the level way he speaks, voice calm, clashes so entirely with the heat settled at the base of shuichi’s stomach with the smooth movement of his hand, that it takes shuichi a moment to realize that kiyo is looking at him almost expectantly - looking at him to continue the conversation about the information he shared, like the times he taught him in his lab.

 

he groans, head tipping back slightly. funny, but he almost got the sense that . . . hang on. glaring at kiyo through lidded eyes, he does his best to calm the involuntary jumping of his muscles at the touch. ‘ are you . . . making fun of me? ‘

 

he thinks he can see a little bit of a smile from what little of kiyo’s face he can see from this angle. ‘ perhaps. though i do always enjoy hearing your thoughts, shuichi. ‘

 

it took him a good deal of focusing to gather his concentration again, working to steady his breathing. ‘ so . . . you mention that much for the person in . . . my role, i guess. does that mean you do this in part to . . . take away people’s power? or is it to help them? or . . . is it so you can have control? ‘

 

kiyo hummed, seemingly musing it over. ‘ an interesting deduction. you aren’t . . . entirely off the mark. ‘ he leans over, nose brushing against the junction of shuichi’s jawbone and throat, continuing to speak against his skin there, lips brushing against the side of his neck with his words. ‘ i enjoy having control sometimes, true . . . but more often, i just like to see the reactions that i can unlock, like this. seeing people’s masks drop is . . . ‘

 

‘ beautiful? ‘ shuichi guesses with a little bit of a grin.

 

kiyo huffs out a laugh, his hand tracing along shuichi’s hipbone almost _idly._ ‘ are _you_ making fun of _me_ now? ‘ he asks, his voice clearly teasing.

 

‘ maybe, ‘ shuichi replies in turn, grin not fading.

 

‘ hm, ‘ kiyo replies, and shuichi can’t evaluate the emotion he’s expressing, his face hidden in the crook of his neck. one hand traces down shuichi’s ribs to find the knot at the base of his spine, tugging it in a way that almost forces his back to arch. the other hand reaches the base of his cock again, fingers tracing up the shaft. ‘ you may want to brace yourself. ‘

 

‘ b-brace myself? for _what?_ ‘ shuichi bursts out in alarm. his apprehension suddenly seems to be returning in full force, free hand struggling in the sheets, attempting to push himself to sit up again. kiyo isn’t helping, merely watching him flail with a faint look of amusement. ‘ kiyo - ‘

 

oh.

 

his fingers go lax, head arching back with a groan, barely even recognizing the fact that it comes from his own mouth. the very thought of _oh i’m . . ._ inside _kiyo_ makes something in his head short circuit, and that would be true even if the feeling itself wasn’t overwhelming. his fingers clench and unclench in the sheets, hips jerking up in an aborted little motion.

 

he feels like his skin is hypersensitive, now, his senses on full alert, just deeply _aware_ of kiyo’s legs straddling his hips, and the tug of the ropes crossing his body, each place where they pull taut sore in a way that wasn’t . . . entirely bad, and the fabric of the sheets against his back and his hands beginning to leave fabric marks as he tries to maintain _some_ dignity.

 

when he finally manages to pry his eyes open, his vision is blurry, tears turning his vision blurry just for the overstimulation alone. hurriedly, he rises his arm to swipe them away, feeling a little ridiculous for it. maybe kiyo hadn’t noticed?

 

. . . no, it seemed like he had.

 

but not as though he was embarrassed of shuichi or anything. in fact, he almost looked _fascinated,_ hand coming to rest gently on the side of his face, thumb wiping away the remaining wetness from the corner of one eye. ‘ i believe i’ve said this already, ‘ he murmurs, hands coming to rest on either side of shuichi’s shoulders, ‘ but i continue to be taken aback by your beauty, shuichi. ‘

 

it was a very nice thought, and kiyo was as eloquent as he ever was, but all shuichi could manage was an undignified little noise in response in the back of his throat, doing his best to not just let his hips jerk up.

 

kiyo seemed to notice that, as well - a smile plays briefly on his lips, and then he’s sitting back with a careful roll of his hips that almost makes shuichi see stars again.

 

‘ can i - can i sit up? ‘ he manages to choke out, eventually.

 

‘ of course, ‘ kiyo says, voice level as ever, as though he wasn’t resting in shuichi’s lap with one hand tracing the lines of red rope he’d set there himself, and shuichi finds himself wondering for a moment what it would take for him to lose that decorum - and he looks blankly at the hand held out in front of him, before understanding, and using kiyo’s hand to help pull himself up, forehead pressing into kiyo’s shoulder for a moment as he does. kiyo’s hand finds the nape of his neck, now, settling there with a feather light touch.

 

‘ seeing you demonstrate so many different emotions . . . has your curiosity been satisfied, shuichi? ‘ he asks, and it takes shuichi a moment to remember the circumstances. _right. kiyo’s fantasy - i approached him._

 

he nods, tucking his face into the crook of the anthropologist’s neck. ‘ can i - can i move, kiyo? ‘

 

given the amount of time kiyo spends masked, shuichi is starting to get a sense now of when he’s smiling even when he’s unable to see it. he shivers, nails of his restrained hand digging into the meat of his palm. ‘ what would you do if i said no? ‘ kiyo murmurs. ‘ if i wanted to test your self control, and told you just to still yourself? ‘ his lips brush against shuichi’s jaw. ‘ seeing you struggle with that agony is . . . a tempting idea indeed. ‘

 

‘ please, ‘ shuichi says, half-choked, because he passed caring about his dignity long ago, and he can _feel_ kiyo pause at that, seemingly not having expected it.

 

‘ you can move, ‘ he says, eventually, voice still steady against his skin, but there’s an odd tone to it shuichi hasn’t noticed before.

 

uncertainly, he wraps his free arm around kiyo’s waist, a little clumsily, feeling his thin arms drape over his shoulders in return, and digs his nails into the meat of the other’s shoulder blades as he thrusts up, short and jerky and inexperienced. it takes him a moment, but he adjusts, and his movements become just a little surer as he keeps moving his hips. ( an abstract part of him wonders if kiyo can really be burning up inside like it feels or if that’s just a feature of miu’s invention. )

 

his nails slip as he thrusts up hard, and he can’t say whether it’s the movement itself or the incidental dragging of his nails down the plane of kiyo’s back that pulls that soft groan from the other boy, but he moves his head back to see his face, a little incredulous, and . . . some of that assurance is gone from kiyo’s face.

 

immediately, he decides he wants to hear that again.

 

he rocks into kiyo, and digs his nails back in hard enough that he’s worried he might’ve drawn blood, but kiyo shudders as he does, so he swallows his uncertainty and thrusts up and _wonders_ \- kiyo said _you can never love me_ but at the same time asked shuichi to give him his love along with fear and anger, so what is it that he _wants?_ what is he looking for, in this kind of fantasy?

 

one way or another - he didn’t think he was going to last long, not like this. the very least he could do is reciprocate.

 

he’s awkward, fumbling, in his movements, and falters for a moment to take kiyo in hand before he begins to thrust again, trying to move his hand at the same time as his hips. kiyo is . . . quiet here as he seems to be in all other situations, but from the way he shifts to tip his hips up into shuichi’s hand, and the sharp exhales of breath that he can hear, it’s clear he isn’t unaffected.

 

shuichi feels almost feverish, movements becoming frantic, and he turns to press his mouth to the anthropologist’s again. it’s messy and inelegant and their teeth come close to bumping together but the surprising softness of korekiyo’s mouth and being able to feel his cock twitch with arousal in his hand turns it, however sloppy, beautiful.

 

a wildly spiraling part of shuichi wonders what’ll happen when he does come. he wonders inanely if there’s a button for that. he wouldn’t put it past miu.

 

kiyo’s hand finds the side of his face and pulls it away from his own, and shuichi blinks in surprise. ‘ i told you i wanted to see you, ‘ the anthropologist explains, as though it’s the most natural thing in the world. his hands continue to hold shuichi’s face in place, steady, and one thumb traces down his windpipe.

 

shuichi isn’t sure what kiyo is looking for, but he hopes he finds it, when a minute later, it finally proves to be his breaking point, shuddering in his completion with a soft whine, pleasure sending shivers racking his body and white spots swimming in his vision. already, there’s a content tired feeling beginning to sink into his bones, but he begins to move his hand over kiyo with a renewed vigor -

 

until kiyo grabs his wrist, firm but gentle. ‘ that is enough, ‘ he murmurs. ‘ the memory will suffice for me. i would rather be able to remember it, later. ‘

 

shuichi is torn - on one hand, he knows that kiyo _won’t_ remember this, because it will feel like nothing but a dream, but on the other, saying no might ruin the immersion. his fantasy, after all. struggling with the choice for a moment, he nods before withdrawing his hand, and kiyo deftly slides himself off of his lap.

 

as kiyo begins to gently tug the electrodes off of his skin, sliding the strap-on off of shuichi’s hips, the detective still getting his bearings, shuichi can’t help but wonder what his own fantasy is like. or if kiyo ever bought one of those keys. he finds himself imagining that. what would his ideal be? and what would it be like to have kiyo there, as part of it?

 

‘ i’m going to untie the ropes, now, ‘ kiyo says softly, and indeed, it begins to unwind from around him, kiyo taking a moment to massage out his wrist and forearm when he releases the one hand shuichi had had tied behind his back. experimentally, he flexes the fingers - there are a few pins and needles, but it feels fine otherwise.

 

not for the first time tonight, shuichi acts on a sudden impulse.

 

‘ kiyo, ‘ he says, and he’s not sure whether or not he’d be able to get the words out if there were a guarantee the other boy would remember them, ‘ you know - _you’re_ beautiful, too. ‘ it’s not usually how he describes things, but it feels . . . apt. and he wonders if anyone’s ever called kiyo that. ( they would be right, but there’s a strange part of him that hopes it is a first. )

 

whether or not it’s a first, it certainly seems to take kiyo by surprise as he winds the rope back into a neat loop, staring at shuichi with an unreadable expression for a moment before his face softens. ‘ thank you. ‘

 

for all he had talked about there never being any love involved, his hands are surprisingly tender as they brush against shuichi’s cheek again, and his eyes tip up at the sides in a way that seems to be more kiyo’s way of smiling than his mouth could ever muster.

 

* * *

 

_last night, with kiyo . . . was that a dream?_

**Author's Note:**

> look me in the fucking eyes and tell me that 
> 
> a) miu WOULDN'T invent a bright pink workable prosthetic dick/strap-on  
> b) kiyo wouldn't turn sex into a history lesson


End file.
